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Not an empty threat, and we both knew it – the tales Beyla told us at breakfast were more alarming with each passing day. The Mother’s cronies visiting human islands, threatening death at every hint of treason. Alves on the northern isles arming themselves. Magical convoys visiting the Underground, negotiating new alliances. It could be weeks until the Mother would first strike – it could be days, if we were unlucky – and if our research of the past weeks was anything close to accurate, the Alliance may need me more than even they knew.
Sneaking away under those circumstances … even the promise I’d made wasn’t worth that much.
I know, Creon gestured before I could put any of that into words.You want to ask them. Not saying that’s a bad idea. Just …He hesitated, looking for the least offensive wording.Remember that their disagreement doesn’t have to be the end of the matter.
Because they could hardly chain me to my bed. Because we could always ignore the opinions of our allies and trick our way outside, damn the war looming closer and closer.
‘It would be a complication, though,’ I said, drawing in a terse breath that itched to become a curse. ‘So let’s not risk it. I’ll just finish this last summary, and then—’
He flipped my book shut.
‘Hey!’ I jolted up straighter. ‘You don’t get to send me to bed like some disobedient child, Your Highness!’
I’m not sending you to bed.He smiled, the gesture hawkish with the cold light and the sharp-edged shadows playing over his features; his wings unfolded farther, a lazy spread of silver-lit velvet.I’m luring you to bed. An entirely different game.
I scoffed, planting my elbows on the desk. ‘So far you’re mostly luring my fists to your nose.’
A grin flashed over his face.That counts as foreplay, doesn’t it?
‘Bastard.’ The word came out a fraction too hoarse. ‘Stop getting in my way. I’m doing this for you, in case you forgot.’
I haven’t forgotten for a single heartbeat, he signed, the amusement dwindling.And you know how grateful I am. If you try tomorrow and they don’t agree, I’ll still be more grateful than I’ll ever find the signs to say.
Signs. Not words. Because if I failed …
Hell, I shouldn’t think about that now. ‘Then why won’t you just let me finish this? I promise I’ll come to bed as soon as I’m done.’
He hesitated, then rubbed a hand over his face, his left fingers locking tight around the edge of the table. There were traces of something dark under his nails – dried blood, I realised with a queasy feeling in my stomach. Perhaps I should have been more concerned about him joining Edored for training, even though the alf had sworn loudly and convincingly that he would do no lasting harm to the insufferable winged fucker who’d saved my life during the battle for the Golden Court.
‘I just want to have done all I can do,’ I said feebly. ‘I don’t want to have them reject the idea and feel like I might have done better if I’d just tried a little harder.’
The best you can do is sleep.He held up a hand, interrupting my sharp intake of breath.Em,I've been doing this for longer than you've been alive. Scheming. Making plans. Trying to account for every variable, every stroke of bad luck. Lack of sleep has not once improved my chances of success.
I tried to tell him I wasn’t that tired and had to stifle a yawn. He demonstratively settled back on the desk, raising an eyebrow.
Well?
Something about the sight of him made the prospect of more endless Faerie literature look less attractive by the heartbeat. Hell, did I really need that bloody summary? I’d read the chapters on the last inhabitable days of the continent some five times. So had he. If he believed we didn’t need any more detailed notes, who was I to object?
And soft blankets were waiting for me in his bed, strong arms and the soothing twinkle of his faelights.
‘If Lyn or Tared or bloody Agenor asks for more information on Sophronia’s study of the plague,’ I grumbled, getting up from my stool, ‘I’ll know who to blame when I don’t have the answer right at hand.’
Oddly, he didn’t appear at all deterred by that threat.I promise I’ll beg for your forgiveness very convincingly.
I tried to punch him anyway.
He didn’t even dodge. No matter how fast I was, his fingers caught my wrist mid-air, halting my fist with two inches left between my knuckles and his sharp cheekbone. He swept his free hand around my waist next, shoving me flush against him; his thumb rubbed slow circles on my captive wrist, every caress prickling up my arm with taunting intensity.
Not my best move, I had to admit as warmth pooled at every spot where his hard body met mine.
‘I thought you wanted me to sleep?’ I got out between gritted teeth.
He released my waist, his fingers still tight as steel around my lower arm.I thought this would be a kinder way of achieving that goal. A chuckle.But do tell me if you’d prefer me to drag you out of the library kicking and screaming.
‘Resorting to kidnapping again? How very fae.’
It’s a subtle art few people appreciate. He somehow managed to look appropriately humble as he signed the words, a feat about as impossible as a prize bull’s attempt to appear feeble. You’ll be glad to know you’re my favourite victim by far.
